


Bad Habit

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Mentions of underage drinking, Mild Angst, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: At the very last minute it occurs to Jason that it would be a very bad idea to get used to this.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100
Collections: Anonymous





	Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Found this draft while I was cleaning out google docs and I never really liked it, but it was already like... 90% finished, so I just went fuck it let’s go ahead and post this for fun. 
> 
> P.S. Damian is 17 in this, which makes it legal in some places and not in others, so I’ve tagged it just to be safe.

Jason doesn’t see him until he does, and after that there’s not much else he _can_ see. 

Damian’s hair is slicked back and he’s dressed in a button down with the sleeves rolled up, bare forearms pressed against the counter, fingers curled around a drink he’s _definitely_ not old enough to be having. Jason has no idea what the kid’s doing on this side of town, but if Damian thinks he can just walk into a bar on _Red Hood_ territory and start coaxing bartenders into serving him alcohol, he’s got another think coming.

Jason stalks towards him and Damian sees him coming from a mile away, his lips twisting into a little smirk. This is no coincidence, and they both know that—even before he walks up to Damian, Jason can already guess how the night is going to end. When he snatches the glass from Damian’s fingertips, Damian doesn’t protest, doesn’t even complain. Jason knocks it back all in one go, hissing slightly as the drink burns down his throat. 

He clunks the glass back down on the counter and tries to glare, but those dark green eyes are watching him (and _shit_ , the kid actually went all out and wore _eyeliner_ ), and Jason’s act falters just a little. 

“You’re not old enough to be here,” he growls, but it’s all words and no heat, and Damian smirks at him. “Why? Who are you going to tell?” Jason has half a mind to whip out his phone and start threatening to call Alfred right then and there, but then he catches Damian staring at his lips; and maybe it’s the lighting or maybe it’s just him, but he swears there’s _something_ lurking in those dark green eyes of his, something just this side of hungry.

And that’s really all the invitation he needs.

Damian grabs him by the wrist and drags him into the tiny bathroom at the back, and Jason barely manages to flip the lock before Damian shoves him into a cubicle, forcing him down and ripping his belt open. By the time Damian gets him out Jason’s already half hard, and it should be fucking _embarrassing_ how horny he gets every time he’s around the kid, but, well. Jason can already spot the bulge in Damian’s pants, and he knows he isn’t the only one.

As if that makes any of this less fucked up.

Damian is about to go down on him when Jason stops him with a palm to his forehead. “You know, kid, maybe we should slow this down a little,” he pants.

Damian flat out glares at him. “Stop being such a fucking _hypocrite_ , Todd,” he hisses, before bumping Jason’s hand away and proceeding to swallow him down, _whole_.

Jason chokes and curses and nearly kicks the door down with his foot. He wants to say that wasn’t what he meant at _all_ , that he just thinks they should have a _talk_ about this before it starts becoming a habit; because Jason knows where Damian’s coming from, he’s _been_ there—fifteen and horny and so desperately in love with someone he couldn’t have he had to go out and settle on something else. 

And he _also_ knows that Damian still thinks Jason’s only doing this because he sees him like that too, some sort of fucking _replacement—_ that all he sees when he looks at him is the perfect substitute of the two people he had so stupidly fallen for, back when he was young and foolish and starved for affection. And that is just...plain fucking _twisted,_ because Jason _doesn’t_ see Damian like that, has never seen him like that; and he knows full fucking well they should be having an actual _talk_ about this, like two normal, functioning people, instead of trying to rip each other’s pants off every time they see each other.

But talking has never been Damian’s forte, and it really isn’t Jason’s either, and it’s pretty hard to strike up a conversation when Damian has Jason’s cock down his throat.

Damian deep-throats him again, and Jason sees stars, and—yeah, okay, maybe his mouth _wasn’t_ made for talking. Jason swears the kid must have been born with a fucking _gift_ , because there is no way in _hell_ he could be this good with such little practice. Unless...he _has_ been getting practice; and just the mere thought of someone else getting to see Damian like this has something hot and ugly rearing in Jason’s chest.

He reaches one hand out to thread through Damian’s hair, fingers getting somewhat caught in the ridiculous amount of hair gel, and Damian looks at him questioningly, jade green eyes glittering like a cat; and Jason thinks back to how he had found him at the bar, all pretty and dolled up like fucking _jailbait,_ and wonders how often Damian does this without him knowing; _if_ he ever does this. Damian narrows his eyes and darts his tongue along the underside of his cock, and Jason hisses, wrenches Damian off even as his cock throbs from the lack of attention.

Damian is full on glaring at him right now, one of those _ruin my hair and I will fucking murder you in your sleep_ looks, but as of this moment Jason really can’t care. He thumbs at Damian’s lower lip, watches as Damian sucks him in and swirls his tongue around the tip, and asks without thinking, “you ever do this for anyone else?”

Damian scowls and flushes at the same time, and Jason can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “If you actually _want_ me to get this done, you need to stop talking.” He snaps, bending over to get back to work, but Jason halts him with a tug to his hair. “Go on, tell me,” he says, oblivious to the murderous glare Damian is giving him. “You ever let anyone else see you like this?”

He watches as Damian’s expression slowly morphs from faintly insulted into wickedly _knowing_ , and oh, okay, Jason _really_ should have picked his words more carefully. Damian cocks an eyebrow at him and smirks. “Why? Are you _jealous_ , Todd?” The word rolls off his tongue like a devious insult, and suddenly Jason wants nothing more than to fuck into that pretty mouth of his and wipe that smirk right off his face. 

“No,” he scoffs, “why would you think that?” The words sound false even to his own ears, and Damian’s damn near _diabolical_ smirk splits even wider. He grabs the hilt of Jason’s cock with one hand, the tip of his tongue flicking out in kittenish licks. “What do you want to hear? That you’re the only one I do _this_ to?” He bobs his mouth over the swollen head, and Jason has to fight from bucking straight into his mouth. Damian reaches for his own cock, squeezes himself through his jeans and lets out a breathy moan. “That you’re the only one that...gets me off?” He squeezes himself and moans again, this time with his lips pressed against Jason’s shaft, and, okay, that was fucking _intentional._ Jason grips hold of Damian’s hair and forces him face down into his crotch, barely regretting it when he slides easily down Damian’s throat. 

Damian lets out a groan of surprise, the vibrations sending sparks up Jason’s spine, and Jason grips him harder, starts to actually _thrust_ , marveling at the way the muscles in Damian’s neck stretch and strain under that pretty tan skin. There’s no way he’s letting Damian leave tonight without leaving at _least_ one mark on his throat, a little something to remember him by. Damian moans around his cock, low and sweet and desperate, and Jason knows it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s probably bruising the kid’s larynx at the brutal pace he’s setting, and everything to do with the fact that Damian _likes_ it; likes when Jason uses him, roughs him up a bit, knowing he can take it.

Then Damian hollows his cheeks and begins to _suck_ , tongue curling along the underside of Jason’s shaft; which in itself is nothing short of remarkable, given the way his mouth is so full of cock there should be barely enough room. He sucks Jason off like it’s a fucking _competition_ , barely touching himself, focusing all his energy and attention on making Jason come. And hell if he isn’t doing a damn good job of it. Jason had no idea the kid’s exceptional coordination abilities would prove so useful on a fucking _blowjob_ , but Damian, as always, is full of surprises. He sucks and swivels and _moans_ , the back of his throat constricting in time with Jason’s thrusts, making sure that Jason can feel the bob of his adam’s apple rolling along the underside of his shaft everytime he plunges back in. 

Just as Jason thinks he’s about to go blind from the pleasure, Damian reaches out to cup his balls and gaze up at him, all dark green eyes and soft wet lashes and pretty pink lips, slick and swollen and stretched around the girth of Jason’s cock; and Jason—Jason takes one look at him and comes right down his throat, pulsing and clenching and gasping and thinking all the while that if anyone else were to ever see Damian like that, he would have to fucking claw their eyes out.

Damian doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull off until he’s finished, sucking him dry and then licking him clean. There’s drool and come dribbling down his chin, and it’s fucking _obscene_ , but Jason doesn’t think he’s been more turned on in his entire life. He wants to shove Damian against the wall of the cubicle, lick every last trace of himself from between his teeth, wants to pin his wrists against the door and force Damian to _beg_ for it, rutting against his thigh as Jason fingers him open. 

Damian doesn’t look like he’d be opposed to that notion at _all_ ; he’s wiping off the edge of his mouth with the inside of his wrist, staring at Jason with those unfathomable, green, predator eyes, making Jason feel for all the world like _he’s_ the one being hunted. He’s almost about to open his mouth and _ask_ , when suddenly the door starts banging like someone’s trying to ram it down.

“ _Hey DOUCHEBAG! Open up! Ope—BLEURGH!_ ” 

Jason is grateful, for the stranger’s sake, that they’ve already finished round one. Otherwise he might have a real incentive to break Bruce’s no killing rule tonight. Damian wrinkles his nose in disdain. “These shoes are _Ferragamo_. I’m not about to tread through someone’s regurgitated digestive acids in them.”

“I could carry you,” Jason says, and _fuck_ , he’s not even sure if he’s trying to be funny anymore or if his post-coital brain just has the average functioning capabilities of a shriveled walnut.

Damian spares him a withering look, then quickly scans the bathroom until he spots the tiny ventilation windows on the other end. 

He throws Jason a smirk. “See you on the other side.”

And then he’s gone before Jason can say another word, already hoisting himself halfway up the wall and contorting his upper body to fit through the window. 

Jesus. Crazy ass League of Assassins and their ninja training.

Jason sighs and zips himself up and splashes water on his face several times before he’s composed enough to wrench open the door. He sidesteps just in time for the man to stumble through and start puking his guts out in the toilet— _the one they just fucked in_ , Jason realizes belatedly, and he has to take a few seconds to calm down again before carefully sidestepping the large puddle of vomit in the doorway and trying to find the fastest and most accessible route to the exit of the bar.

Damian is waiting in the alley for him by the time he gets there. His Ducati is all lit up and rumbling contentedly, as Damian leans against it, idly swinging the keys around his fingers. Jason hadn’t even noticed they were gone. Figures.

Jason snatches the keys from him and glares. Damian smirks back.

“Took you long enough.”

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever, point for Wayne.” Jason dangles one of his helmets in Damian’s direction. “You coming or not?”

Damian accepts his offer and slides smoothly into place behind him. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, low and suggestive, right next to Jason’s ear. Jason has to fight to hold back a shiver. “Fucking _tease_.” He mutters under his breath. Damian laughs and it vibrates warm and familiar against Jason’s back. 

At the very last minute his mind gets caught on the word ‘familiar’, and it occurs to him that it would be a very bad idea to get used to this. But Damian’s weight is heavy and reassuring against his back, and his arms around Jason’s waist are a welcome anchor, and soon that thought simply melts into the sound of the wind whipping past his ears and the promise of a not-so-lonely night waiting for him in the distance.


End file.
